


I got a feeling that it’s time to let go

by brilliantbanshee



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt TK Strand, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of TK's mom, Owen's not perfect but he's trying his best, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantbanshee/pseuds/brilliantbanshee
Summary: 5 times Owen almost lost his son, and the 1 time he did.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Owen Strand & TK Strand
Comments: 27
Kudos: 194
Collections: 9-1-1 Lone Star ▶ Carlos Reyes / Tyler Kennedy "TK" Strand





	I got a feeling that it’s time to let go

**Author's Note:**

> I have always wanted to do a 5+1 but never quite managed it - until now. I've also never written from Owen's perspective before, so this fic is just a lot of firsts for me. 
> 
> Title from "Circles" by Post Malone

1.

August, 2001

He only looked away for a moment, he swears. 

One moment everything was fine - TK was at his side, they were in the middle of a crowded street fair, discussing where to go next. The 7-year-old was lobbying to make a trip back to the balloon animal maker on the previous block, and Owen was making a case for going forward, to see what else the festival had to offer. Then he had heard someone call his name and he had turned to see who it was. Then, his son was gone. 

He remained calm for a few moments. He was methodical and logical for the first few frantic heartbeats. He looked around; asked the people around him if they had seen a small child with dark hair in a red shirt. One minute later, he hit full panic mode. 

Owen had lived in NYC for most of his life. He had loved it since the day he arrived - the hum of the people, the constant thrum of the city. It was the city that never slept and it was always in motion. It didn’t slow down for anyone. 

For the first time, Owen hated it. 

There had to be at least a thousand people crammed into these barricaded streets. Pedestrians, vendors, performers; too many people for a 7-year-old to be lost in. Owen’s world was slowly collapsing with every moment that his son was gone and the city moved on without a care. What did one person’s crisis matter to the Big Apple? The soldiers of the concrete jungle marched on, oblivious to Owen’s anguish. 

He pushed through the crowd; ignoring angry words and indignant cries as he plowed through couples, families, and friends. He desperately looked for that head of dark hair, for that red Spider-Man t-shirt TK had been insisting on wearing every other day. He was making plans as he searched, focusing on them in favor of the “what-ifs” trying to push into his mind. Every awful thing that could be happening to his child was careening through his mind. He forced himself to focus on action - he needed to find a police officer. This was a Manhattan street fair, there had to be at least a dozen roaming around somewhere. If he could just find one…

“Dad!” 

TK’s voice, high in excitement cut through his frantic thoughts, and Owen came to a screeching halt. He turned to find his son running towards him, a balloon dog clutched in his hands. 

“Look Dad!” he exclaimed as he grew closer, “The balloon man made me a dog! I told him to make it red so it could be a firehouse dog!” 

Owen couldn’t form words, couldn’t even formulate a coherent thought. All he could do was stare at his son - his son who was safe and here and okay. TK was still babbling on about the balloon dog and Owen knew he was going to have to give him a lecture; explain to him why what he did was wrong, how much he had scared his dad, but for now, he settled on pulling his boy into the tightest hug he could manage. He squeezed him as hard as he could; clutching him to his chest as he willed his heart to stop racing. Owen Strand had never felt fear quite like this before, and he hoped to never again. 

(Little did he know that he would, just a month later; when the world as they knew it changed before his eyes.)

2\. 

March, 2010

The second time is less frantic. There is no moment of realization, no imminent threat. There is simply time, a slow build-up, and a phone call. There is simply the simple fact that his son is now a teenager and nothing could have ever prepared Owen for it. It had been a few days since he had and TK had even talked - they had fought the last time they spoke and while Owen told himself he was giving his son time to cool off, in reality he actually had no idea what to say next. His son was acting out, purposely finding his way into trouble. Owen was terrified that he was going to get himself into trouble that he couldn’t get himself out of. 

Turns out he had been right, and he hated it. 

He knew that the divorce had been rough on TK; hell - every day since 9/11 had been rough on TK. He knew that for all his good intentions that he hadn’t been the attentive father he had once been; that he had always wanted to be. He hadn’t been there, hadn't listened. He hadn’t taken the time to figure out what was going on with his son. The consequences were clear and right in front of him - his sixteen-year-old son, in a medically induced coma. 

His son had tried to kill himself. 

At least, that is what the hospital staff thought. Maybe it was an accident, maybe it was intentional; at this point, Owen really didn’t see much of a difference. Something had caused his son to take drugs - enough that his heart had stopped beating. He wondered how he hadn’t known, hadn’t seen that his son was struggling; but a part of him already knew the answer. He hadn’t been the most present father in the past few years. He hadn’t been there to talk, to ask his son what was going on. He had been so wrapped up in his own problems, the problems of his crew and his firehouse that his son had somehow stopped taking the priority he once had. That he should always have. 

He berated himself, furious that it had taken this near-miss to show him what he stood to lose, to remind him what his priorities were; what they had always been. He hated this fear, but he welcomed it. It had shown him very clearly how he was failing, and what he stood to lose. It was a wake-up call he needed, he was just so grateful that it had come before it was too late to matter. Too late to keep him from losing his son, one way or another. 

He knew when TK woke up there would be talk of therapy and rehab and solving this problem, but Owen knew that he was going to have to do some soul searching as well. He was going to have to look at his own life and figure out exactly when his son had stopped being priority number one. He needed to change that because his son was without a doubt the most important thing to him in this world - he just wished that it hadn’t taken a near tragedy for him to remember. 

TK was going to wake up, and when he did Owen was going to be there for him. Just as he always should have been. 

3.

May, 2015

The day he watches his son graduate from the fire academy is the proudest moment of his life. 

The day he gets the call from his son’s captain is one of the worst. 

It was a high rise fire in Brooklyn. The building had not been up to code and it had gone up like a tinderbox. It was packed with people - 24 floors of tightly packed apartments; hundreds of families in need of rescue. Everything from the walls to the floors had been done at the deepest discount; nearly every building code had been ignored. Which is why when the floor collapsed under his son, it wasn’t just one floor that he crashed through, but three. 

Owen is shaking when he hangs up the phone. He had always known that this would be a very real possibility, but he had never thought it would be so soon. He thought he had more time - more time to prepare himself, more time to pray that he would never have to. His hands were still shaking as he called Gwen; his voice trembling as he relayed the news. Their son was hurt; their son might not make it through the night. 

As he hails a cab to the hospital he struggles to remember that joy he had felt the night of the graduation. He had been so happy that his son was following in his footsteps - he hadn’t even thought about the fact that he might be leading his son straight into an early grave. 21 years - it wasn’t long enough. It wasn’t enough time to spend with his son; it wasn’t enough time for his son to experience everything life had to offer. It was too soon for goodbye. 

He rushes into the hospital, trying his best to follow the directions that the too calm nurse had provided. He careens around the corner, ignoring the captain that stands to greet him and heads straight into his son’s room. It is only at the threshold that he finally pauses; stops suddenly, the weight of the sight before him almost toppling him. He manages to stay on his feet and cross the room where trembling hands reach for his son’s far too still one. He gently grasps it around the wires and IV and gives it a gentle squeeze. There is no response and though he knew there wouldn’t be - the doctor had mentioned they were keeping him sedated to reduce stress on his body while it healed - it still struck him like a ton of bricks. This was all his fault. 

He collapsed into the chair next to the bed and ran his free hand down his face. How had they ended up here? Everything had been going so well. TK had been sober for 5 years, had managed to get through high school and the fire academy with flying colors. He had finished top of the class at the academy and had opted to start at a different firehouse - an attempt to prove that he was more than just a legacy; more than just his father’s son. Owen had been so proud of him for striking out on his own, for his determination to forge his own path and reputation. But now he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this could have been prevented if he was on his team, under his watch. 

Logically he realized that was ridiculous, but still, the thought remained. When Gwen arrived they sat in strained silence, her unspoken accusations echoing the doubts already clouding Owen’s mind. Gwen had always said that she was happy as long as TK was happy, but Owen knew that she had resented him, resented this path he had sent their child down. She resented the long hours and the danger; she resented that the very thing that had stolen chunks of TK’s childhood could very well claim his life. If TK didn’t pull through this; if they did lose their son tonight, it would be all his fault. Owen couldn't bring himself to disagree with her. 

Eventually, TK woke up. There were tears and hugs and whispered affections. There was peace between Owen and Gwen, for the first time in nearly a decade. There were reassurances from TK that no, Owen hadn’t forced him into this career. That it was TK’s choice and he couldn’t be happier, even now. That even faced with the grim realities, he had no regrets. He said he loved this job and couldn’t imagine doing another. 

Owen smiled and kissed his son’s head, but the doubts raged on. If he couldn’t keep his son from this life then the next best thing he could do was keep him close. As the days faded into weeks and TK healed, Owen suggested that he transfer to the 252. With a stellar reputation built at his first station to follow him, TK agreed. Owen gave him a beaming smile and pulled him into a tight hug, but the newfound anxiety continued to swirl inside his mind. 

At least now, he thought grimly, he could be there if the worst should happen. 

4.

November, 2019

The fear of finding his son unresponsive on his apartment floor was like nothing he had never felt before. To touch his boy and to feel no breath coming out of his lungs, no pulse thrumming in his veins was enough to bring his own heart grinding to a halt. This fear had been building since his son hadn’t shown up to work and now it was ready to engulf him. He let it. Nothing, absolutely nothing he had faced in this lifetime could have prepared him for this. This could not be the end, he refused to accept that. 

Which is why he grabbed the narcan himself, why he insisted that he be the one to plunge it into his son’s thigh, that he be the one to administer the drug that could bring back the one thing that made his life worth living. He ignored protocol and common sense and his highly trained and trusted paramedics because he needed to know for sure that he had done everything he could. 

Maybe it was selfish (it was surely unprofessional) but when TK’s eyes shot open and he took a gasping breath he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he could do was pull his son; his wonderful, amazing, sobbing boy to his chest and hold him as tight as he could. He savored the feel of his breath on his neck, the sound of his gasping sobs. His son was alive - he could handle anything as long as his boy was safe. 

But even as they knelt here on his son’s floor; Owen’s mind drifted back to the meeting, to the job offer. He saw it in a new light. Maybe this was just the opportunity they needed. Maybe this was the sign. There were only three things Owen Strand loved completely in this world: his job, his city, and his son. But one of those would always take precedence over the others, and maybe this time that meant giving up one of the others. 

Something needed to change; he couldn’t be back here ever again. 

5.

March, 2020

Nothing about this made sense. They had done everything right. TK had done everything right. He had worked so hard and had come so far in the few months that they have been in Austin. He had done all of that work only to end up in the same place. 

At death’s door, again. 

This isn’t the first time they’ve been here. Maybe this fear should feel familiar by now, but each time feels like the first time. This one feels worse, somehow. Maybe it was because he had lulled himself into a false sense of security; maybe it is because he had been so sure that he would be the one to go. He had spent all this time preparing himself for the looming possibility of his death from cancer that he had not even paused to think of the awful possibility that he could still, with a terminal illness, outlive his son. There was a cruel irony in there somewhere, but Owen wasn’t laughing. 

He clutched TK’s hand tighter, savoring the warmth that it gave off. Every time he closed his eyes he was back in that hallway. It was a wonder that his entire world could be completely knocked off its axis in just a matter of seconds. Four, to be exact. It had been four seconds from the moment that TK forced the door open using the battering ram to the time he was crumpling onto the floor. Owen could remember each one. 

It played on a loop in his head: the sound of the ram opening the door, the bang of a gun, TK’s sharp intake of breath, his grimace of pain. Then he was down, crumpling to the floor and it was all Owen could do to try and slow his fall. The moments that followed were like scenes out of his worst nightmares. TK struggling to breathe, coughing up blood; the horrible silence when he stopped breathing. Seeing the moment that breath left his son’s body will haunt Owen for the rest of his life. Michelle had gotten him oxygen as quickly as possible, but there was still the fact that his brain had been without oxygen for nearly an entire two minutes and no one knew quite what that might mean. Owen was trying to be optimistic; trying to hope for the best. The team kept telling him that TK was strong, that he was a fighter. Owen knew that he was; but they didn’t know how long he had been fighting. 

All of the medical jargon and disastrous happenings the doctors had relayed to him scrolled through his head: hypovolemic shock, organ failure, coma - it was all too much. Too much for one person to handle, to live through. This time, it might just be enough to be the thing that finally brought Owen’s nightmares into reality and took his son from him. 

He was scared; more scared than he had ever been. Something about this time felt worse - more final. He mused that maybe it was because he and TK were now closer than they had ever been, that TK was happier than he had seen him in a long, long time. Maybe it was simply because there was no way this could have been stopped, nothing he could have done could have prevented it. There was no way Owen could have prevented this and he hated that more than anything. 

He spoke to his son, hoping desperately for any sign that his boy was still inside this body in front of him. He squeezed his hand and didn’t even try to deny the tears that flowed down his face when there was no response. He thought back to before, to earlier tonight. To a conversation about a dog at the firehouse. He reflected back on his words, to what had seemed like sage advice at the time. Now, he recognized it as hypocrisy. He had stood before his son mere hours ago and told him that loving something often meant letting it go. He had said that was a part of life; he had said it was okay. He was a hopeless hypocrite, because here he was faced with that exact scenario and nothing about this was okay. 

He clutched TK’s hand and prayed. He recognized that it was a coping mechanism, that he was grasping at straws. He had never been a religious man; but he would do anything, try anything on the off chance that maybe TK would stand just that much more of a chance. So he prayed. He waited and hoped, he leaned on his crew. He did all that he could, for four days. He never left his son’s side. 

Finally, TK woke up and Owen could breathe again. Today was not the day that he lost his son. Today was not the day that his entire universe collapsed. 

+1

November, 2020

Owen picked up the picture frame from the nightstand and held it tightly. It was a photo of him and TK at his fire academy graduation. They were both beaming. Owen could still recall the immense pride he had felt that night, and nearly every day after for the past 6 years. He sighed as he looked up from the photo at the empty room. Everything else had been stowed carefully away in boxes, the picture frame had been the last hold out because Owen had his doubts he was strong enough to look at it without breaking down. 

“I can’t believe I’m finally losing you,” he said aloud to the empty room. 

He started when an amused voice sounded from the doorway, “Don’t be so dramatic Dad, I’m only moving a few miles away.”

Owen composed himself and turned to face TK, waving his words away, “No, I know how it is. You and that boy are going to be so wrapped up in each other that you’re not going to even remember that the rest of the world exists for at least three days.” 

TK rolled his eyes as he crossed the room to grab another box, “You do realize that I’ve basically been living there for the past four months, right? We're just actually making it official, and finally getting all my things in one place.” 

“I can’t say I’m going to miss you running in here frantically looking for a shirt that you swore you had there, or that time you couldn’t find your left sneaker. Did that ever turn up, by the way?” 

“No,” TK grumbled, “and I liked those shoes.” 

Owen shook his head fondly and stowed the picture frame into the box on the bed, gently closing the top. “I think that’s the last of it,” he said, patting the top of the box. “At least until I find a stray sneaker somewhere.” 

“It’s not like you don’t know where to find me,” TK said wryly, “we do still work together after all.” 

Owen hummed in agreement, “True, but it’s just not going to be the same.” 

TK rolled his eyes again, “It’s not like this is the first time we’ve lived apart, Dad.” 

Owen nodded, “But this time, I know it will be for good.”

At TK’s puzzled look Owen rolled his eyes, “Please TK, I know you better than anyone. I’ve seen the way you look at him, the way you two are together. Carlos is it for you.” 

There was silence for a few moments and where Owen had expected to see a smile, he found a face turned away from him. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?” the words were soft, barely audible. 

His son’s eyes were cast down, but Owen knew that they were clouded in doubt and old insecurities. He could feel his heart aching. His son may be 27; a capable adult who was good at his job and proud of who he had become, but there were still lingering fears that he just couldn’t seem to shake. Owen closed the distance between them and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. 

“He does,” he assured him softly, “because he looks at you the same way. Isn’t he the one who asked you to move in the first place after all?” 

TK shrugged non-committedly, but he could see some of the tension melting away. 

“Besides, “ he continued softly, “you will always have a home here, no matter what.” 

TK looked up and grinned at him, “Good, because you know I’ll be popping by nights Carlos has to work late looking for dinner. He has pretty much effectively banned me from cooking after I used up the second fire extinguisher.” 

Owen shook his head fondly, “Where did I go wrong?” he said dramatically. 

TK chuckled and shrugged, “I blame Mom. I’m pretty sure there’s a reason why I pretty much grew up on takeout when you weren’t around.” 

Owen shook his head fondly and handed TK a box before grabbing the last one himself. As they headed out of the room towards Judd’s truck Owen turned and took a moment to survey the empty room. He had spent the majority of TK’s 27 years in fear that he would lose him. He never would have thought that losing him for the right reason would make him feel so happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://brillliantbanshee.tumblr.com/) and leave a comment if you've got a second. I always love to hear what you guys think!


End file.
